


Change of Position

by theoriginalzinc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Character Study?, Gen, Iwaizumi is short, Iwaizumi plays back row, Iwaizumi-centric, typical Iwaizumi and Oikawa play for different teams fare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginalzinc/pseuds/theoriginalzinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their loss at the Spring High, Iwaizumi had resigned himself to the fact that his competitive volleyball career was over. </p><p>It was a surprise, then, when he was pulled aside by the club advisor during lunch to tell him that a scout from Waseda University was dropping by after school and wanted to meet with him. </p><p>And he wanted a defensive specialist, not a hitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Position

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just a fleshed out post-high school headcanon for Iwaizumi. I feel like a lot of people discount his love for volleyball, but I also feel like a lot of people disregard a lot of the harsh realities of volleyball, like being overlooked simply because you're "too short." That said, being just shy of 5' 11", I can't see Iwaizumi playing on the front row for a competitive team, but I can definitely see him making the switch to a back row position (and that's a thing that actually happens; my sister was an outside hitter turned libero in college). 
> 
> ANYWAY, pls read and enjoy.

After their loss at the Spring High, Iwaizumi had resigned himself to the fact that his competitive volleyball career was over. He’d gotten a few offers from some local universities, but nothing interesting enough to reel him in for an entire four years; he wasn’t going to settle for a mediocre team at a mediocre university in the name of playing a very un-mediocre game. It was disappointing, he’d admit, but Iwaizumi had made his peace with it, shifting his focus to his studies. He was a diligent student, and university was not going to change that.

It was a surprise, then, when he was pulled aside by the club advisor during lunch to tell him that a scout from Waseda University was dropping by after school and wanted to meet with him. It was the Wednesday after the Spring High, and he was sure that teams, especially ones with notable volleyball programs, had long since finished recruiting. And why, exactly, a school like Waseda would be following Iwaizumi, a member of a team that didn’t even make the finals of the prefectural tournament, was beyond him (of course that was a poor argument, he knew Oikawa had gotten scouted, but that was well before Spring High).

He decided to keep this bit of information to himself, so as to save himself from the teasing he would get from his teammates. Besides, it wasn’t a done deal. For all he knew, he was Waseda’s final final final pick for a wing spiker, and he’d be doomed to warming benches for four years of his life, despite spending hours upon painful hours training only to never reach a game. Iwaizumi wasn’t about to do that, not even for volleyball.

When classes came to an end, Iwaizumi dodged Oikawa in the hallway, speeding toward the club advisor’s office. Luckily Oikawa had been swarmed by fans after class, the size of the crowd only growing larger as graduation came nearer; his fan club had realized that he would be leaving them soon, and he wasn’t going to be coming back next year. And so Oikawa now spent much of his free time surrounded by girls trying to get just one more minute with him. It was exhausting.

Iwaizumi reached the office, and true to his word, there was an unfamiliar man standing in there, chatting with the club advisor, wearing a Waseda University Volleyball Club jacket. He looked rather young, maybe he was an alumnus charged with scouting the Miyagi prefecture or something, Iwaizumi didn’t really know. The man caught Iwaizumi with the corner of his eye and smiled, turning fully toward him.

“Ah, Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s good to see you. My name is Sasaki Yoshio, I’m an assistant coach at Waseda University.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sasaki-san,” Iwaizumi greeted.

“Alright, well, let’s get straight to business. I want you to play for Waseda.”

Well, that did seem to be implied by the man’s very being here, so that didn’t really come as a surprise.

“In what capacity?” asked Iwaizumi, careful to keep his voice even, rather than accusing. He really, really didn’t want to be fourth-string four-year benchwarmer.

“Well, I’ll be honest”— Here it comes—“I don’t want you as a hitter”—Bingo—“I want you as a defensive specialist.”

What. 

“I’ll admit that your hits are strong. You have a lot of power and you can hit some really smart spots, but the fact of the matter is you’re too short. No one on our front row is under 185 centimeters. But listen, your receives are solid. I think you have a lot of potential as a back row player. You’re smart on the court, you can read the ball, even against tricky plays, and you’re quick on your feet. Beyond that, you’ve got a great serve that I think can really turn into something nasty, and your front row skills could definitely translate into a crazy back row attack. 

Iwaizumi, to be frank, was astonished. He had never even considered playing exclusively back row to be an option; it wasn’t a position many teams utilized in high school, except for the libero. Besides that, it had never crossed his mind as an option for himself. It was wing spiker or bust for him. It was even a recent development that he even embraced receiving at all.

“Would I get any playing time?” The possibility of being a fourth string benchwarmer was still on the table, after all.

Sasaki got a chuckle out of that. “Listen, Iwaizumi, I really think that you could be vital for the team. We don’t have someone with your specific skill set on the team right now. I’m sure we could whip someone into shape for the job, but I can definitely see you fitting in on the court. Maybe not right off the bat, but you wouldn’t be a benchwarmer for long.”

Alright, then.

“I’m in.” Now, it must have sounded like a snap decision to Sasaki and the club advisor, but Waseda had actually been on Iwaizumi’s short list of universities for some time. It had a strong sports science department, it was in Tokyo, and the possibility of even just watching a good volleyball game was enough for Iwaizumi. To be able to actually play instead of just spectate was the icing on the cake.

Sasaki laughed again, reaching into his jacket to pull out a business card. “I’m glad, but I think you should probably consult your folks before making a decision like that. Listen, give me a call tonight or tomorrow after you’ve had some time to think it over, and then you can let me know. But I’m very glad to hear that you’re interested.”

Iwaizumi took the card and Sasaki moved toward the door. “I look forward to hearing from you,” he said before stepping out, the club advisor following him to show him out.

Iwaizumi stuffed the card into his bag and made his way to the front of the school, fishing his phone out of his pocket. There were numerous messages from Oikawa, demanding to know his whereabouts and lamenting his abandonment, but he didn’t have a chance to reply in true aggravated fashion, because Oikawa pounced on him as soon as he stepped out the front door.

“Ah! Shittykawa, what the hell?” Iwaizumi shouted, peeling his friend-turned-barnacle from his back.

“Iwa-chan you abandoned me!” Oikawa cried, dramatically twisting his features into a contrived visage of sorrow. “Where did you go? Did you have detention? I know you’re a brute, but I didn’t know you were a delinquent!”

“No, I didn’t have detention, idiot. I was meeting with someone.” He wanted to slap himself as soon as he said that, because he knew exactly how it sounded, especially with graduation looming over them like a hurricane. 

“Oh, so my little Iwa-chan has finally grown up, then? Who was she? I bet it was that girl from 2-4, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t meeting with a girl,”—a shocked gasp—“I was meeting with a scout.” Then came a genuinely shocked gasp.

“What? From where? What happened? Tell me everything!” Oikawa had regained his barnacle status, grabbing Iwaizumi on both arms.

“Of course I was going to tell you, so shut up for a second.” Oikawa pulled back, still holding his friend’s wrists, which were torn from his grasp rather easily just a few moments later. “It was the assistant coach from Waseda University. They want me as a defensive specialist.”

Oikawa’s eyes went wide and he smiled—big, from ear to ear. “That’s amazing, Iwa-chan! I’m really happy for you.” It had been a long, long time since Iwaizumi had heard his friend be so genuine, and he couldn’t help but smile along with him.

“Yeah, so you’d better get ready to face me across the net. Your serve doesn’t scare me,” Iwaizumi teased, getting pulled into a hug. It was no secret that Oikawa was headed to Tokyo for university; he’d gotten more than his fair share of offers from local universities and city programs alike, though he’d not yet chosen one. It crossed his mind in that moment, then, that there was a possibility that maybe Oikawa had also been approached by Waseda, but if he even tried to pass up better options just to stay with him, Iwaizumi would make him regret it for the rest of his life.

“That’s a deal, Iwa-chan. But trust me, I’ll have come up with a few new tricks that even you can’t figure out,” Oikawa replied with a smirk. Iwaizumi returned it with a grin, and the two shook on it.

 

 

The first time Iwaizumi stepped out onto a university court was during a pre-season intercollegiate tournament for Tokyo-area universities. It was a chance for teams to try out new rotations and give fresh players a chance to warm up to the new environment and their new teammates. Iwaizumi was wearing the number 15 now, as he switched with number 6, a third year wing spiker. Initially, Iwaizumi had thought he’d be covering the ace, but after actually meeting him, it was clear that he didn’t need coverage from anyone; a fourth year, 190 centimeter powerhouse with receives that rivaled even the libero. He was the type of player that would have made Iwaizumi want to take over his position once he graduated, but after spending the last few weeks training hard on the back row, he was more than happy with his current role.

Their first round of play was nothing spectacular; it was pool play, every team playing everyone else. Waseda did well enough, able to move onto the top court for the afternoon, where, finally, they’d have a chance to play Tsukuba. Iwaizumi made his way through a match of line-judging, sneaking glances toward the Tsukuba players as they warmed up; Oikawa looked good in purple. He could feel Oikawa’s eyes on him, too, judging him before they met for the first times on opposing teams.

Oikawa was, predictably, a starter, at least for this practice tournament. Thankfully, Iwaizumi had also graduated to starter status, starting on the back row for number 6, in the back right corner for serve receive. There had been a bit of discussion pre-game about Oikawa’s serve, judging mainly from the warm-up and the few glances they’d gotten between sets in the morning rotation. There wasn’t much he could really offer them in terms of advice; Oikawa’s serve was nasty, an unholy combination of speed, force, and spin that made it nearly impossible to read. He opted instead to throw his coach his most confident look as he stepped onto the court.

It was obvious who Oikawa was going to serve to. The back line was composed of a right-side hitter pushed into the corner by the ace who’d pulled back for serve receive on the left side, the libero in the middle, and Iwaizumi on the right side. He couldn’t tell if it was deliberate that Oikawa didn’t look at him before serving, and if it was deliberate, he could figure out why. Was it to keep his composure, protecting himself from getting distracted by his friend, or was it to keep from giving himself away. It didn’t matter, Iwaizumi was prepared nonetheless.

The first serve wasn’t quite an ace. It had gone just barely beyond the ten-foot line, curving down so sharply that it seemed like it might barely even clear the net. The ace was able to get a touch on it before it went careening across the gym, but Oikawa seemed satisfied. Iwaizumi grimaced. Oikawa had kept up his end of the bargain. The next serve went barreling toward him, laser-guided to the back right corner. Iwaizumi was one step too far forward, though, and he could just manage to touch it before this one, too, went bouncing into a wall. He glared through the net at Oikawa, curbing himself before he found himself yelling across the court about how risky of a serve that was, and how he was definitely going to get the next one. He just took a step back, though, readying himself for another one.

And it came, this time targeted a bit farther forward and toward the sideline, but Iwaizumi was there, throwing himself to the ground and getting his hands under the ball just in time. It wasn’t a perfect pass by any means, but it got the ball up high enough for the setter to get under it and send it to the left side, where the ace absolutely crushed it to the ground, winning the point. The team gathered briefly in the middle of the court between points, Iwaizumi receiving enthusiastic (and powerful) pats on the back from his teammates.

None of his receives in the rest of the game were as flashy as that first pass for Iwaizumi. Being a defensive specialist wasn’t a flashy position. His job was to predict where the ball would go, and be there before it got there. And for the most part, he did his job. The most satisfying moment (outside of seeing Oikawa’s ugliest of scowls after foiling his serve) was when he made his first back row attack, coming up behind the middle blocker to smack the ball down from the back line. Sure, he’d grown to love the thrill of a good pass, but hitting was always where his heart had been.

After the game, a 25-20 and 25-22 loss to Tsukuba, Iwaizumi finally let slip that Oikawa was his former teammate and current best friend. His team had a good laugh about that, the ace complaining that he could have warned him about that first serve. Iwaizumi just laughed. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were able to meet briefly after the conclusion of the tournament. Waseda had finished sixth overall, Tsukuba third. It was by no means the first time they’d seen each other since starting university, but this time felt fundamentally different from every other visit. The two, now enemies on the court, couldn’t help but grin shamelessly, throwing half-hearted insults at one another until they were dragged away by their teams.

Sure, maybe it wasn’t his ideal. Maybe he wasn’t the ace, and Oikawa wasn’t his setter, but Iwaizumi could never say that he wasn’t thrilled by his new position.

**Author's Note:**

> K so that's a wrap
> 
> Lmk if you liked
> 
> Hmu @ actualvolleyballplayer on tumblr
> 
> Let's talk anime vball or real vball idc (the olympics are real real soon and i'm mad hype for the beach players kerri walsh jennings is my queen and phil daulhausser is my string bean king)


End file.
